


By Any Other Name

by Latter_alice



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Chex kinda sorta? - Freeform, M/M, Tucker is more serious than usual, Tuckington is the main ship, Zombie Apocalypse, slow burn most likely, will tag characters/ships as they appear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-07
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-19 14:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4750211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Latter_alice/pseuds/Latter_alice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David Washington finds himself alone, driving through a storm when he sees the most perplexing thing one can see in the midst of the apocalypse: a man walking alone, without a weapon, and undoubtedly soaked from head to toe, so he takes a chance and offers him a ride with no destination. Maybe they’ll find one before the dead find them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rain, With a Chance of Sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> In lieu of RvB being near the end, and TWD drawing nearer. If you enjoy, there are notes at the end.

It’s been eight days, seven hours, and twenty-something minutes since he’d seen another human.

“I can take you somewhere dry, if you want.”

It takes him more than a few moments to realise he actually offered, followed by a slight pang of panic. What the hell was he thinking, pulling up next to a complete stranger to offer anything in a battered grey pickup? What if he's armed? Psychotic? Bit?

_Sometimes a risk can be worth it_ , a familiar voice chimes from his memories, but he remains hyper-aware of the knife he has sitting in his doors cavity.

Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long to grab it if things go south. Hopefully.

“It’s dangerous,” he added in the same half yelling voice, trying to beat the volume of the rains rolling punches into the ground and car.

The mans blue button-up shirt clings to his darker skin as he hugs himself, continuing to tread forward through the storm. He wasn’t sure if the man heard him, until he tilted his head to the side and glanced at him through a pair of bold black glasses that made him look younger than he probably was. He can’t help the red hue his face inherits under the perceived scrutiny of the stranger. At least the sun's long gone.

He stops in place without warning, “What’s the point?”

“Survival, maybe?” He asks, his voice raising an octave.

He still hugs himself as he scoffs, “Yeah, but what's the _point_?”

“I… Is that not good enough or something?”

The stranger faces him, and takes a step to the passenger window. “You’ll die with or without me in whatever plan you think you have. People are _eating_ people right now and-” he shakes his head, “And it’s only going to get worse. So, what’s the point?”

He starts to respond, but stops as soon as he opens his mouth, _there’s power in numbers_ getting caught at the door. The stranger looks at him, waiting.

“You could always get in and find out.”

It’s as quiet as it can be for a moment.

The door handle clicks open.

“Now you’re speaking my language,” he says as his dripping from climbs out from the darkness and into the almond, leather seat next to him. Somehow the guy looks wetter in the truck than he did in the rain. He debates for an instant before his hand reaches for the heater knob-

“Don't bother. Wastes gas,” the stranger says as he sits in his own personal puddle.

“Whatever floats your boat.” He reaches his hand out to the other man, “David Washington.”

He looks at it for a moment with a raised brow, “Seriously dude? A handshake? Its the apocalypse, not the oval office.”

He retracts it with a frown. Well that was a mood change.

It’s silent, save the storm, for a long moment as he inspects the man.

“Tucker. David or Washington?” Tucker asks as he starts wringing out the edges of his shirt, causing ripples in the thin material.

“Er.. Washington is fine, I guess,” he says as he lifts his foot off the break, allowing his relic to creep forward through the onslaught of razored drops of water once again, thankful to be in the middle of nowhere for the first time in recent memory.

“Okay _Wash_ , you actually got a plan, or are we just wingin’ it?”

Well, fuck. Maybe this was an awful idea. He can’t see the road ahead, so he sighs and puts the truck in park.

“Winging it,” he says as he leans back in his seat to reach behind Tucker, producing a, somehow, clean rag.

“What? No family you’re trying to find? Or not find,” he asks, taking the rag from him.

He doesn’t answer immediately, instead looking out of his side windows, observing how the fields of corn swayed like waves in the storms wind. “The only thing I’m trying to find is an abandoned place with leftover supplies.”

He glances at the other man again, and he gives a slight chuckle, “Good to know i found the one guy who doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

Wash huffs at this as his mouth morphs into a frown, “Actually, I do believe I found you wandering in tornado producing weather. The apocalypse... Just hasn’t been what I expected.”

Tucker shrugs as he sits the damp green rag down, “Dead people walking around is a hell of a lot more interesting than anything else.”

“Thats… one way to put it. We’re staying put for the moment. I can’t see, and we’re fucked if this truck gets wrecked.”

“Fine by me. Better than walking in it all night. I’m gunna climb in the back and sleep,” He says, peering into the cramped area. It was a place more designed for small children as a last resort more than anything, but he was going to argue with him. Something was always better than nothing these days.

Hours pass as Wash stares at the drops hitting his windshield in a mix of angry ticks that refused to let up. The wind howls as he thinks of what he needs to get from the next town he comes across. Knifes, antibiotics, food… His stomach growls at that thought, so he sighs and decides that, fuck it, he may as well drive, it’s not like he wasn’t doing it before he decided engaging with anyone was a good idea.

The car roars to life, matching the pitch of the storm. At least there were no walkers in sight.

And Tucker sleeps the entire time.

*

The fluorescence highlight the bits of decaying skin starting to peel of the walkers face as Wash sinks his pocket knife into its moist skull after pinning it to a wall near the pharmacy. It’s not much different than an apple, he thinks. The blood leaks out like juice, running between its now lifeless eyes as she falls to the floor.

That was twelfth one he actually had to put down, each one a little more robotically than the last. He supposes it’s better that way, to become numb to it all as soon as possible. If one could get used to the sight of flesh peeling off skin like butter as barren teeth snap like animals. Or the smell. The stench of the dead seemed to cling on just about everything in the store that he’d bothered to look at thus far. It’s putride and suffocating, especially as he stands next to the now dead again female on the floor.

He whips his hand off on the woman's clothes, trying not to think too hard about the fact that all of the roamers he put down in the store were spouses, children, and coworkers at some point, and he’s technically just defiling them further. Blocking it out is the best tactic- things surely aren't going to get better.

He shuffles his way back over to the rows of medication (mostly whipped clean by now) and, trying his best to tune out the groans of the half alive, thinks of his new companion he left, defenseless, in the back of the truck. A million horrible possibilities run through his mind as he tries to look for something useful.

_Zoloft_. What if there's a horde out there?

_Ambien_. He could just take the truck and leave him here, alone and nearly defenseless.

_Celexa_ \- The barrel of a cool gun being pressed to the base of Wash’s cleared the thoughts from his head. His entire body turns to ice and the disorganised medical shelves seem to blur for a moment as the figure holding the gun released a breath, it’s warmth giving him goosebumps.

“I suggest you drop that bag of yours,” a female voice calmly tells him by his ear.

Some part of his mind is relieved that, at the very least, it isn't Tucker. The other part makes him grip his navy bookbag harder than he was before.

“And why would I do that?” he nearly whispers.

“Because, dipshit, I’m the one with the gun, and from the looks of it, you’re stupid enough to come in here unarmed. Now if I were you, I’d be a good little boy and put the bag on the ground.”

“Okay,” Wash mutters. Slowly he bends over, doing as told.

“See, now thats not too hard. Now if you behave just like that, I won’t have to stain that pretty blonde hair of yours-”

_Bam!_ Wash shoots up like an arrow, bag in hand, not more than half a second after his attacker falls. He turns around to find Tucker standing behind him, holding a cane from a few aisles down.

“I- Thank you,” he says, glancing down at the short-haired blonde on the floor, ‘She’s not- she’s not dead, is she?”

Tucker shrugs, “No fuckin clue, but I dont intend to stay here and find out,” he tells him, grabbing his arm and pulling the shocked man out of the convenient store

“Was she alone?” He asks as they walk through the doors. There wasn’t a cloud morning blue sky, the sun not yet peaking over the eastern treeline. It’s a sharp contrast from last night’s whirlwind of chaos.

Wash’s grey Ford was the only car in the lot, and the lot was the only place in sight. a one-off gas stop for the weary traveler of before. Not a soul in sight.

Tucker voice weavers as he answers, “I… I dunno man. I thought I heard something, and when I got up from the backseat, the driver's side tires were slashed, and I panicked.Good thing I came in when I did.

”Wash’s heart sinks as they get close enough for him to see that Tucker is indeed, correct. The slash’s were thin, but efficient in running his, their, life. He sinks to the ground next to the door, no expression on his face.

“Hey man,” Tucker says while placing a hand on his shoulder, “We can just come back for it.”

Wash lets out a single, breathy laugh. “It’s not the truck. We have to walk- sleep,” he pauses, brushing his fingers over the front tires gash, “out there.”

He looks up to Tucker, staring at his, oddly turquoise, eyes, “We’re so fucked.”

He extends his hand to Wash, “Psh, with that attitude. So what if we don’t have a car? We just need to find somewhere far away from that crazy bitch to sleep tonight. If not, then we’re fucked.”

He grabs the man’s hand without replying. What else can he do? He never thought much about the possibility of a zombie outbreak, and when he did, he had always envisioned whatever place he lived in at the time banning together to fight of the blood-hungry menace. Not isolation, and surely not this.

“Let’s get going, then.”

*

They must have walked five miles along the tree line while avoiding the occasional rotting corpse,  idly talking about nothing in particular- Wash trying to come up with idea’s on what to do from here, Tucker keeping an eye out roamers and giving him the worst case scenario of every step Wash said they could take. The sun wasn’t yet above them, and if it were the trees would make sure they were only coated in a shadow as they walked in the middle of the two lanes.

Then the topic changed, and with it, Tucker.

One moment Wash was telling a story about how he was lost in the woods as a kid, and somehow managed to think of using a piece of glass to make a fire. Said he remember watching his older brother burn ants to death with a magnifying glass, so why couldn't he do it with something similar?

Tuckers demeanor stiffens under his overly-wrinkled button-up after Wash asks him about his family, and just as he opens his mouth to apologise, Tucker stops and responds.

“I don’t remember them.”

He stares straight ahead as Wash gazes at him, perplexed. “At all?”

Tucker sighs, “I don't remember anything before the start of all…” he uses his to motion around him, “This.”

Wash doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Tucker chimes in, saying to the ground, “I don’t even know if Tucker’s my actual name- it was just the first thing that came to mind.”

Wash reaches out to put his hand on his shoulder. Tucker doesn’t look up when he feels the gesture.

“I… I don’t know how that’d feel- obviously, but I can do whatever I can to try and find anyone you that you know, if you happen to remember a name or a face. And if your name isn’t Tucker, well I guess I’ll just get used to something else.”

He could feel a dash of apprehension work its way through his veins after he made the offer- maybe that was an incredibly stupid thing to say- before Tucker looked up into his dark green eyes and pulled his mouth into the starts of a smile.

“Thanks man.”

He retracted his hand, taking this as his turn to find something appealing at the ground to stare at, “Eh, it’s the least I could do. Pretty sure that lady at the gas stop would’ve killed me if I hadn’t have picked you up.” He didn’t like how warm his cheeks felt.

“And the zombified Children of The Corn probably would’ve eaten me alive as soon as I passed out if I wouldn’t have got in. It’s no big deal.”

And at that moment, alone together in the early September breeze, none of it really was. With a partner that could have your back as well as they knew the other had the potential to in the future, maybe the entire damn apocalypse wouldn’t be as big of a deal as it could be.

And if not, at least it wouldn’t be a big deal they’d have to go through alone

For now, that is.

 

 


	2. Somewhere Dry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I might have completely forgotten I was supposed to be writing in present tense. Please don't hate me for the change. This will most likely be a few hundred words below the average chapter length, give or take some (assuming people don't get tired of my nonsense story). Some may be longer, but I'll try my absolute best to insure they aren't shorter.

All full day's walk had slipped past them like sand by the time they found an area hospitable for life that had yet to be overrun by numerous stumbling humanoids with slimy hair and faces half fallen off.

“I’m just glad we _finally_ found somewhere. I thought we’d never stop walking!”

The two were both crouched next to a grouping of bushes in the treeline that separated the never ending road from the first building they’d seen in miles.

Late afternoon light filtered through the leaves as a subtle breeze casually came and went, the coolness of fall it carried gave relief to the less than comfortable temperature for the long sleeves and jeans the two were wearing.

“If you can’t handle long distance walking, then lets hope you don’t have to _run_ that far,” he let out a nearly inaudible chuckle as his eyes stayed glued straight ahead, “It might kill you before the dead ever get a proper chance to.”

“Yeah, whatever. I’ll be fine in my prime physical condition, especially if spying on places after walking for five years straight is the best plan you’ve got- I’ll have calves of steel in no time!”

Wash shushed him, still not averting his gaze.

Before the pair was a motel that looked as if it belonged in a small town from a bad eighties movie, with a roof the colour of old blood and concrete walls that looked like they were painted with a dirty cream and almond blend. The building was two stories tall and roughly thirty rooms on the top and bottom floor combined. Around the perimeter of the area was a less than threatening wired fence, more suitable for keeping a small dog prisoner than protecting against the apocalypse. On one side of the parking lot there was what appeared to be an inground pool, and next to it was a small red four-door car, with a rusted, black El-Camino parked on the other side of it. On the opposite side of the lot stood an RV that must've been taking up four spaces to be parked in its angle as its driver's side faced the pool. Wash frowned. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

“Do you think there’s anybody there?” Tucker whispers.

“I… Have no idea. It seems like there should be. It’s too clean, too many cars . Plus the windows are boarded up. Why would someone leave if this is the condition?” He asked, more to himself than to anyone else.

“I dunno man, we’ve been here for hours, maybe-”

The sound of a handgun being cocked silenced his thoughts and words

“ _Maybe_ you should’ve fucked off after you saw this place. Stand up. Put your hands in the air,” a male voice instructed them. They gave no resistance.

“Good, now turn around. Slowly.”

The man looked no older than twenty-five, even with an oversized silver pistol pointed at them, he didn’t appear overly threatening. His coal black hair was straight for the most part and hung a few inches below his earlobe, with a dash of equally dark facial hair complimenting his tanned skin. His cloths reflected his hair in colour and covered him completely- long sleeves and black jeans held together with light brown combat boots. He had electrifying blue eyes, a neon ice shade Wash was surprised existed. His grip was unnecessarily tight on the guns handle.

“Who are you?” He asks, using the barrel of his gun to motion towards Tucker.

“Hey man, I’m not the one in charge here, so I’d appreciate it if the question were directed at blondie here,” he replies without skipping a beat.

“Tucker!” Wash nearly squeaked at the man, ripping his gaze away from their attacker to glare. “You aren't supposed to throw me under the bus!”

He shrugged, giving a Wash an “oh well” look as he replied, “Well it’s not a lie. You’re gunna be leagues better at this whole,” he paused as he searched for the right word,” ‘negotiation’ stuff. I’d rather us _not_ both get shot by mad-eyes over here with the trigger finger-”

“Okay ghosty, I suggest you shut your boyfriend over their up before I shoot him,” Wash glared at his companion, who raised his hands up a little further in mock defeat and mouthed an apology. “Now one of you, and I don’t really give a damn who, talk.”

Wash cleared his throat,”My name is David, Washington, or Wash. Whichever. My… acquaintance, is Tucker.”

“Okay. Great. Wonderful. Now what the hell are you doing sneaking around _my_ camp? Hm?”

“Just looking for a place to sleep-”

“Preferably without assholes like you in it. We were checking, and leaving, if there's already people.” Tucker injected in.

“Tucker, please don’t speak the next time we’re in a situation like this,” Wash told in a hushed voice.

Tucker’s expression widened at his words, and a sly smile slid onto his face, “Next time, huh?”

Their exchange was cut short by a yell from some distance behind them.

“Church!” The man lets out a prolonged groan, his aim at them failing to the ground and his posture slumped over. “Church, where the fuck are you?!”

The calls from the motel didn’t stop as he addressed the two again, not bothering to point his gun back up. “You know what? I don’t care. If you guys wanna come pillage us or fuck on the poolside or whatever- I don’t care,” he started to storm off in the direction of the motel, pushing his way between them and the shrub, yelling the rest at them without looking back, “At this rate this place won't hold long anyway!”

They simply looked on as the miniature tornado left them to their own devices.

“So…” Wash dragged on after Church was out of earshot, “Wanna go see-”

“Hell yes,” Tucker answered. He had ahold of Wash’s olive coloured shirt, pulling him through the same path just taken toward the shouting match that was surely about to unfold.

Church flung the gates door open like a child throwing a tantrum would a door, not bothering to close it as he continued to stride forward to the RV. Whether he expected them to close it or just didn’t care wasn’t entirely clear since he instantly started to yell about patrolling the moment he crossed the threshold into the nearly spotless lot, even the pool was spotless, he noted.

Wash secured the gates door as Tucker walked ahead.

The woman standing by the side door of the RV had her dirty blonde hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail covered by a camo hat with a wood-adorned hunting rifle hanging from her back; it’s black strap contrasted with the red of her tank top as she stood strong in a pair of her own pitch black boots, presumably waiting for Church to get come and face her.

“That’s my pistol,” she accused, with enough venom to rival any snake.

“Yes, I’m well aware of that, but _you_ sent _me_ on patrol, and _my_ gun is with the only fucker on this camp that won't use it!” His hands were in fists as he yelled.

“Well _maybe_ if people wouldn’t have died on _your_ watch _I_ wouldn't have to make sure everybody's armed!”

A cold silence overtook their exchange, and Wash took the opportunity to look away from the exchange to see the crowd they’d managed to draw with the noise.

A girl that looked barely old enough to be out of elementary school stood closest to Tucker and him. She had her deeply tanned arms crossed over and eggshell white dress as she stared at the four of them. There was a yellow flower in her dark wavy hair that looked like it was barely holding on. he almost missed the knife strapped to her hip.

Behind her was a man of similar age to Church with brunette hair and thin glasses holding some sort of conversation with a women who had short black hair curving along her jawline and pale skin, contrasting with her partners tanner physique. Both supported shades of purple in their clothing choice. The woman appeared to be watching the girl.

A boy emerged from the second story window with a messy brown bed head and a bright teal shirt. He looked nearly seventeen, eighteen if he was being generous. He looked back to Church and the blonde, who had transitioned to less audible voices as they discussed whatever matters had previously fallen. Tucker seemed to think that was his opportunity to look around, but as soon as he turned to walk off, The woman pushed Church out of her way, beelining straight for him. She grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and lifted him up an inch to eye level.

“Who-oa sweet stuff, normally I get a girls name before things get rough!” He called out, voice wavering slightly.

Her glare intensified, “ _Excuse me_?”

Wash could nearly see his heartbeat speed up a few miles, he started to reach for Tucker’s arm before Church called out a “Don’t!” from the other side of the madwoman.

“I- uh, meant that as a, uh, peace offering..?”

_Nevermind running, his mouth is going to get him killed._ “Uh, don’t mind him. He’s not the brightest guy I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing-” “Hey!” “My names David Washington,” he held his hand out.

The lady dropped Tucker from her grasp, and he fell with a huff, complaining about Wash offering handshakes out like it’s his job, from his position on the ground.

She grabbed it. “Tex. I’m guessing genius over there in the black offered to let you stay whatever,” her grip tightened, her fingers turning into plier, “I suggest you behave yourself, or the dead will be the least of your problems.”

And with that not so thinly veiled threat, she calmly turned around to retreat into, what was would assume, her quarters inside of the RV.

He shook his head, and reached down to offer his fallen comrade a hand to help him back up. He took it without hesitation, looking at the door to the lions lair. “Feel sorry for the lucky guy dealing with that every night. Jeez, it’s like she’s half shark!”

Church gave out a long sigh. “That,” he said, “would be me.” And with that, he took his leave, following Tex into their space.

“I’m just gunna assume the guy’s dead if he isn’t back out in another couple hours,” Tucker said as the door closed and he released Wash’s offered limb.

“Hey!” The girl in white yelled at the pair, a fire burning in the tone of her voice.

“Er, yes?” Wash replied, turning away from Tucker.

“How far away from here are you?” The little girl more or less demanded to know.

“We’re both from not too far,” Washington told her with a slight bit of uncertainty.

Her eyes widened the tiniest fraction. “Have you seen my brother then?” She asked.

Wash’s shoulders slumped a bit as he frowned, “I’m really sorry, but my friend Tucker here’s the only person I’ve been with this whole time.”

Her face fell at the news, “Oh…”

“I’ll keep my eye out for any guy that looks like you, okay?” Tucker chimed in from behind him.

She smiled, “Okay! My names Kai, just tell him where I am!”

“All right, well my names Washington, and the guy behind me is Tucker-”

“Kai- leave the strangers alone while they get settled!” The woman yelled from a few yards behind her, and with a wave, she ran off.

Wash spared a wave to the couple.

“So... You wanna go get a room?” Tucker asked.

“I don’t know if I like this place, but it’ll be dark soon and,” he looks around to the mostly empty lot, “we can talk later.”

“Sounds good to me man.”

*

The room itself is nothing special. Two beds with itchy red blankets, a lamp attached to the space in between them, right above a single bedside table to share, and a circular wooden table with two chairs sat next to the front door of their second story room. The descending sun’s beams lit up the room nearly as well as the artificial light could for the time being. Wash was sitting out various candles (that would, hopefully, vanquish the permeating scent of dust and mold the inside of the motel seemed to suffer from) the group had collected and left at the service desk, while Tucker rummaged through Wash’s bookbag full of various items from the gas stop fiasco.

“Huh. Toothpaste. Why didn’t I think of that?” Tucker mumbled, tossing the hygienic on to the mattress with a light thud.

“There should be some matches in the front compartment,” Wash said as he pulled off the lids of a couple more candles sitting on their table. In total the room had nearly twenty different sizes, scents, and colours of candles strewn around their small space.

“We should get more cloths. Maybe,” he tossed the box to Wash. “Too bad there are like, zero stores.”

He lit a match. “I think we’re on the edge of a town now,” he paused to as he lit a few of the candles near him, “But, that’s not our main concern at this moment.”

Tucker sighed before he plopped down on the bed to lay, making the mattress whine in protest. “What is then? Hygiene is pretty high up on my list.”

“As it is on mine,” Wash mumbled before blowing out his match and turning around and walking towards the window, “But like I said, the place where we sleep is the main concern.”

“You don’t like it here,” Tucker stated.

Wash sighed as his fingers grabbed onto the rough and dusty blue curtains, closing them. “I just... Don’t trust it.”

“Why?” he asked, as Wash came to sit on the unoccupied bed.

“I don’t know how much you’ve seen out there, but it’s bad. It got bad so fast, too. The Church person and Tex- they don’t seem like stable leaders, I’ve seen people like them in snap under less. It just doesn’t seem right.”

Tucker laid back against the stiff pillow and heaved a sigh, “ _I_ don’t even know what I’ve seen.”

Wash gave a light sigh as well, examining the other man in the soft candle light with somber eyes. “I’m sorry… The offer still stands though. Whatever you think I can do to help, I will without a doubt,” he declared with sureness in his unwavering voice.

“I don’t know what the point in trying to remember even is,” he said to the ceiling, not bothering to look at him. “Everyone I knew is probably dead anyway.”

“You don’t know tha-”

“I do,” he interrupted, looking over at Wash after he pushed himself up on the decrepit mattress. “I woke up alone. Why else would that’ve happened?”

He shook his head, “You don’t know the reasons, just the fallout. Maybe you just got seperated.”

Tuckers jaw clenched before he spoke, “No. I searched for days all around where I woke up. There’s nothing there for miles and miles. I was either alone and had been, or I was dumped there.”

“Sure, that’s possible, but I don’t think it’s likely, and even if it is, wouldn’t you rather know?”

“I-I don't know,” he looked to the floor, gazing at the thin brown carpet for a moment before uttering, “Fuck. Yeah.”

He laid back down, more casually than before, and after a moment of silence spoke, “List off names.”

“Any names in particular?” Wash asked.

“Nope. Whatever comes to mind works.”

“Okay, if you think it’ll do anything.”

“Eh, don't know. Maybe though. All I know is I don’t know a damn thing about how to get rid of amnesia.”

“I’m think we’ll figure it out,” He said before collapsing on his brick bead as well.

“Not with my shit luck,” Tucker mumbled.

“Terry?”

“Nothing.”

“Beth?”

“Nope.”

The exchange went on for a few hours, and not a single one elicited any type of reaction before Tucker slipped into unconsciousness. Wash blew out the candles before throwing the half of the blanket Tucker wasn't laying on over him, and then followed his example.

_Maybe tomorrow._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading chapter two! Any and all feedback is majorly appreciated


	3. Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait!! College got in the way, along with other things... Sorry!

The sun had yet to peak over the lush green trees, and the clouds covered its early rays as Wash stepped out of his and Tucker room. The early air sent a chill zipping down his spin as he yawned, leaning against the railing, and the morning light gave the deserted parking lot a calm, eerie look to it, like the eye of a storm. Thankfully the only sign of life were two unnamed men next to the pool.

It didn’t take long for him to decide to join them while Tucker slept.

As he approached, he could see that one of the boys had deep, shining auburn hair that reminded was of crunching leaves and cinnamon. He stared at a book through thinly framed glasses, completely ignoring the other boys presence while, who flopped around like an uncoordinated six year old in the pool the paler man's plastic tanning chair faced.

“I never thought I'd smell chlorine like this again,” he stated, examining the crystal-like water as the boy in it stopped causing it so much unrest. “Or see a pool so… clean,” he turned to sit by the redhead, “No bugs. Huh.”

He doesn’t peek away from the black book to look at his new company, or to see the other person's sorry attempt to lug himself out of the water, sloshing around and painting the concrete wet, along with causing water to fly towards the three chairs they were sat at.

The other gave a short huff, before nearly slamming the book shut and dropping it on his maroon coloured basketball shorts, the book, along with his plane black tshirt, were adorned with spikes of water.

“At least it’s clean,” Wash stated.

He sighed before looking at Wash, “Who are you..?”

He stuck his hand out to, “David Washington. My friend Tucker and I arrived here yesterday, right before the, uhm, yelling. If you happened to hear any of that.”

“Ah. Yeah, I was on a run with tweedle-dim lying on the concrete over there,” he said, motioning toward the tanner boy in teal trunks lying on his stomach.

“Hey, I can hear you!” The boy yelled into the ground.

“Well it isn’t false. Simmons,” he stated, shaking Wash’s offered hand.

“Nice to meet you. I’m sure Tucker will be up before noon,” he paused, “Well, maybe.”

He gave a sharp nod as he choice to look at the black book in his lap, and in an almost strained voice said, “Ah. One of them, then.”

“Not sure yet,” Wash said, phrasing it like a question as he examined the other.

“That’s Palomo of there. Or Charles. Whichever he feels like that day, or… Something,” he said, directing his gaze to the, now sleeping, brunette.

“How is he sleeping..?” Was asked, his voice going up an octave as he squinted towards the boy.

“How can anybody?” Was all he said.

He spared a huff of air masked as a laugh, “Medication. So, uh, how long have you been with these guys?”

It was like every cell froze in place for a split second as he composed himself internally, “Seven days.”

“New too then,” Wash said quickly.

“Yeah,” his voice cracked, “There were more.”

“I’m sorry,” he said after a slight pause, looking away.

He scoffed lightly, “Don’t be. No one else is.” And with that he stood up to leave without another word, retreating toward the line of rooms.

Palomo head popped up at the other exit, and he gave a groan, “He’s so happy, all the time.”

He pushed himself off of the ground, out of the dampened ground that surrounded him, wobbling over to take Simmons now abandoned seat to stretch himself out on, yawning as he popped his extremities. He looked like a high schooler, careless and too free spirited for him to last.

“Everybody's different,” Wash offered.

“Eh, I guess. I don’t get it though. People die, shit happens. None of it was even his fault, and he got to find his half sister,” he said as he looked up to the sky, where the sun had just started to peek over the barriers, brightening the powder-blue sky slightly more and making the clouds transition from grey to pearl.

“Shit does tend to happen.”

The boy heaved a long sigh, frowning at the view above him, “Yeah. We got attacked by some bandit type of group. A few kids died to some of the loose-skins the noise attracted. Two of our best scouters, too. Emily’s twin, too. One guy I didn’t know so well got scared and ran off- Church has been super pissy since then.”

“I take it Simmons was with them then?”

“Uh, yeah? He was kinda like a prisoner or something. I wasn’t there yet.”

“Hey Charlie! And person from yesterday,” A cheery voice called from the direction Simmons left.

Wash turned to see the man he didn’t get to meet yesterday that Kai ran to. His hair was the same shade as Palomo’s chestnut, and had thinly framed glasses like Simmons, but his skin seemed to be naturally darker, nearly a shade of bronze. He had on a darkly stained, purple button up with long sleeves and blue jeans.

“Dude, stop calling me that,” the boy groaned, resting his head on the slanted back of the chair. He pointed to Wash without looking and said, “This guy is…” His voice trailed off, and his voice popped up, “I have no idea. Huh.”

“David Washington,” he sighed. If I have to say it one more time, I’m changing it.

“Ah, well my names Frank , but the kids here used to call me doc since I treated Emily, the girl that yelled for Kai yesterday.”

“All right, Doc then, or..?” Wash asked.

“He thought about it for a moment, looking somewhere behind him for a moment before his attention snapped back to Wash, “Yeah, Doc works. Anyway,” he said, glancing over to the rows of rooms, “Where’s your friend at?”

Wash followed his example and glanced at their shared space, frowning, “Good question. He’s not much of early riser.”

“Neither is Kai. I’m sure they’ll be up around the same time then. I’m surprised to see Sarge isn’t up and at em yet.”

Wash’s breath hiked, “Sarge?”

“Yeah, he has the room with the red awn chair out front. Usually sitting outside petting his shotgun from his days in the military.”

“Is that his name?” Wash asked in a strained voice.

Doc frowned, “I really don’t know. I don’t think he does either.”

“Ah,” he said, relaxing into his seat, “Poor guy.”

Palomo snorted, “You say that,” he stood up and stretched his arms, “He’s crazy.”

“And you think you’re immune to the same treatment?” Wash asked,

“Yup. I got this whole apocalypse thing down man,” He plopped back down, and the plastic strips of white and blue did not thank him as it squeaked.

“If you say so,” Wash said as he rose from his own.

“Yeah. Gunna have to be,” the boy said before heaving a sigh.

The three of them were quiet for a long moment as Palomo stared above him and Doc looked at the few other that had started to come out of their designated rooms, among one of them was a young freckled woman accompanied by who Wash could guess was Emily. They scooted their way over to Tex and Church’s RV with somber faces, the younger, brightly coloured girl staring at the broken bits of gravel pavement as her feet dragged.

“I wonder what’s up with them…” Doc trailed off.

“Hm. Don’t know, but they don’t look happy.”

Doc gave a nervous laugh while crossing his arms, grabbing onto the silky looking fabric before offering, “Maybe you should go get your plus one.”

“Yeah…” he considered as the girls stopped in front of the RVs door.

Emily appeared to be giving instruction to the girl, glancing towards the pool. Doc shook his head as the girl followed her orders, leaving her to walk towards them in the same defeated manner. They could hear the door whine as Emily entered.

“Dude, you should probably go back,” Palomo said as he stood up, going to meet the girl.

“Katie, you look awful…” He told he in a hushed voice, putting his arm around her shoulder and flaming waves. Wash could see tears slipping down her cheeks behind thick glasses.

“Charles,” she whimpered in a voice that was being obscured by, what Wash assumed, was a retainer too large for her along with braces, “It’s Kia, she’s missing.”

Doc instantly sprang forward to stand in front of the girl, “What do you mean she’s gone?” he asked at the same time a yell from the RV could be heard, and not more than a moment later Tex stormed out, hair sticking up and still in pajamas, making a beeline straight for them with a fire burning in every step.

 

 


End file.
